A Supernatural Adversity
by TheQueenOfObsession
Summary: Caroline Forbes is in London - what could possibly go wrong? When she accidentally stumbles into a murderous mystery, meets an irritating yet pretty consulting detective, and becomes the enemy of one of the most powerful vampires in the world, she figures that more could go wrong than she'd ever imagined. (Rated M for violent themes/possible language)


**This is something i've been toying around with and decided to try out. I've not written any Sherlock fics before, let alone a TVD crossover, so do point out any odd things you notice! Enjoy. (This fanfiction is based off of BBC's Sherlock and CW's The Vampire Diaries)**

_**I do not own any version of Sherlock Holmes and his adventures, nor do i own ****The Vampire Diaries.**_

* * *

The dark alley was dingy and foul, and Caroline scowled as she walked through it to get to the other street.

London was meant to be much more glamorous, she thought, as she emerged onto a gloomy street with hard faced Londoners pacing about. This wasn't at all like what she'd seen in the movies. Not to mention the people were all so rude - though that she was used to.

_Where am I? _she pondered, wandering down the street and trying to decipher the map she held in her hands. It could not have been more obvious she was a tourist, and anyone could have probably guessed she was American as well, which was probably also why no one approached to help.

"Excuse me-" she stepped in front of a man, about to ask him what street this was. Then her eyes focused on him, and she realized something was off. He was jumpy, glancing behind him anxiously, worried lines creasing his face. "Wh - are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, quite." his gaze settled on her and he glanced down toward her map. "This is Baker Street, if you were wondering."

"Yes, i was. Thanks." Caroline stepped out of his way, and the man scurried away. _English people are weird. _Shrugging, she kept going down the street, eyes glued to the map, trying to figure out where exactly on Baker Street she was when -

_Crash. _She stumbled and toppled over backward, her map flying from her grip and her hands scraping painfully on the concrete. She swore without thinking, but more from irritation than from pain. Her hands were already healing.

"Oh, I'm sorry - let me help you up - "

A short man in his forties with sandy hair held out his hand, and Caroline took it, righting herself. He kneeled and lifted her map, handing it to her with an apologetic smile.

"I wasn't looking where i was going. Sorry myself." her eyes shifted to the man's companion. A tall, dark haired man who seemed younger, with the strangest eyes. He wasn't paying the slightest attention to Caroline.

"Are you lost?" said the former, a much more polite person than the other. She smiled sheepishly and nodded. "This is 221 Baker Street, and that's...right here on your map. Are you going anywhere in particular?"

"John, hurry up, won't you?" the tall man said impatiently, hands in his coat pockets. _Rude, _thought Caroline.

"Er - not really. Just wandering. Thanks for the help!" she trilled, waving a goodbye as she stepped past them and hurried away. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the two of them getting in a cab.

Shaking her head at her stupidity, Caroline stopped and held her hand out to traffic. A cab pulled over a few moments later, and she slid into the backseat with a satisfied sigh.

"To Oxford Street. That's where all the stores are, right?"

* * *

Caroline stumbled into her hotel room, sighing with relief as she dropped all her bags to the floor and collapsed on her bed.

She'd begged her mother to go London for a while. First when she was fifteen, and she'd first discovered Doctor Who, which she secretly adored (yet never informed anyone about.) When she was sixteen Caroline wrote her sophomore thesis on England, and got an A+ - this did nothing to convince dearest Sheriff Forbes. At seventeen Caroline had finally managed to convince her to let her go when she was eighteen - and here she was now, safe from the conundrum of Mystic Falls, and in one of the most glamorous cities in the world.

Alone.

She should have planned it out, really, but she'd been so excited about going she hadn't thought about inviting anyone. When she turned into a vampire, it completely slipped her mind, so she never asked any of her friends. Then they all got so wound up in their supernatural dealings, Caroline left almost with a notice, escaping the insanity that had become her hometown.

Her mind wandered back to her day and her fabulous shopping spree. Than had been fun. Then she remembered the anxious man, and an uneasy feeling grew in her stomach. Something was terribly wrong with that man, she decided.

Suddenly the phone on the bedside table rang, and she jumped out of her reverie and picked it up quickly, her vampire reflexes purring.

"This is Caroline."

"Miss Forbes? Could you please come down to reception? Some officers would like to ask you some questions." came the accented, light voice of the blonde receptionist downstairs. Caroline told her she'd be down right away, and hung up.

Police? The uneasy feeling swelled as she ran a hand through her hair, grabbed her keycard, and swept from the room.

Down in the lobby a few people milled about, some coming back from a day in the city, some going out for the evening. The room was glossy and nice and mostly made of beige marble. To the left of the elevators was the smooth, sleek reception desk with several people seated behind it. Two men stood next to one of them in front of it, looking grim and serious.

"Hello. I'm Caroline Forbes." she said, not taking the outstretched hand of one of the men. He dropped it, and glanced at his partner expectantly. The other cleared his throat.

"Thank you for coming down, Miss Forbes. I'm Detective Lorre, and this is Detective Adams. We would like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright with you."

"Can i see some I.D.?"

The detectives held out their badges, and pleased that they were really cops, Caroline nodded and the three of them sat at a bustle of chairs in the middle of the lobby.

"You're visiting from the States, am i correct?" asked Lorre, taking out a notepad.

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"And how old are you?"

Caroline raised her eyebrows. "I'm eighteen."

He nodded, jotting down some notes. "This morning CCTV captured you conversing with a man on Baker Street."

Surprised, the young vampire took a few moments to respond. "Well, yes. I wasn't sure where i was, and i stopped him. He told me the street name, then went on his way."

"Did he seem to be acting...unusual, in any way?"

Growing all the more uneasy, Caroline admitted he'd seemed a little anxious. "But i don't know him. He could be like that all the time for all i know."

Lorre glanced at Adams, who nodded. Sighing, the middle-aged man folded his hands.

"Miss Forbes, that man was found dead a few hours ago."

Stunned speechless, Caroline stared at him, completely still. She quickly composed herself, snapping her gaping mouth shut. "Wh-what?"

"His name was Jason Wells. He was found by his landlady in his apartment."

"How...how did he die?" she asked, the nervous feeling burning brighter.

Detective Lorre cleared his throat again, as if he wasn't sure he should disclose this information to a young American girl. "He was found hung."

"Suicide?"

"That's the issue here, Miss Forbes. His living room was cleared of all furniture, yet he hung from the ceiling. Someone put him there-"

Lorre raised a hand to silence Adams. He stopped talking abruptly.

"We're trying to retrace his steps. Is there anything else you can think of?"

Caroline brought back the memory of the guy. Jumpy. Polite enough. Something off about him. Nothing solid. "No."

The two detectives stood, and she followed suit. After taking a card and promising to call if she thought of anything else, Caroline watched them leave.

As she waited for the elevator to go back up, she wondered, _How did they even find me here?_

* * *

The next day Caroline was up early, sitting on one of the double-decker buses and sipping a coffee she'd gotten from the hotel's breakfast buffet. Back when she'd been super excited about this trip and her old Caroline self, she'd booked a lot of tours for a lot of things. She was still not sure how, as most usually there was no need, and it was impossible to, book tours a year in advance. Sometimes she wondered if she'd retained her strange vampric compelling skills back when she was an ambitious human.

Today she was going to the Modern TATE Museum. There was a Warhol exhibition, and she was pretty interested. Getting there was tiring, but also pretty fun. London was so different from anywhere in America, and watching it from the bus window was calming.

The tube wasn't as. It _was _a Thursday, and it _was _early in the morning. The rush-hour commute was a bitch.

When she finally reached the building and went inside, just barely in time for the tour, she exhaled in relief as she fell into step behind the group, listening halfheartedly to the bright tour-guide and mostly examining the artwork. She could write a few papers on this stuff, if she bothered. Somehow the prospect of college had dimmed in her mind when she'd realized her immortality. She had an eternity to go to a university. Why bother so quickly?

As if the universe was rewarding her absent-mindedness, the group stopped, and she collided with the person in front her.

"Ah! I'm so sorry - oh."

She stopped. The man had turned around, and it was the tall one from the other day. With the strange eyes. His expression registered recognition.

"You don't seem to be the following type. Yet chance would have it we meet twice in two days." he said cooly. She blinked at him.

"Following? Ah, no. I could actually ask you that, as i've had this tour booked for a year."

"Impossible."

Caroline smiled. He frowned, turning away.

They'd reached the exhibition, and Caroline was pretty impressed with the work she'd always seen in movies but had never seen in real life. She stopped in front of one of the Campbell's Soup pictures, examining it with a bemused expression.

To her right the man from earlier was talking on the phone. Caroline's vampire senses and human curiosity couldn't help but overhear.

"Honestly Lestrade, the amount of cases you can't solve is startling, though not surprising. Have you questioned anyone? A girl he bumps into in the street is hardly a lead. What's her name, anyway?"

By the time she'd made the connection, the man had hung up and was walking toward her purposefully.

* * *

"Oh, god." she ran a hand down her face as the man stopped by her side.

"We haven't been properly introduced. Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective." he held out a hand, which Caroline eyed wearily before shaking. _Detective. _

"Listen, Mr... Holmes. I've already talked to the police-"

"I'm not the police. I'm a consulting detective."

She sighed. Then something struck her.

"Hold on. How do you even know it's me who the guy bumped into?"

"Your name was provided."

"But how did you know it was _me?"_

The man's gaze shifted to the soup. "Yesterday, when you fell, your purse snapped open. Your name was written on the inside."

"You have quite the eyesight."

"Eyesight has nothing to do with it."

Impatient, Caroline turned to face him fully. "What do you want? I'm _this close _to leaving."

"Was the man wearing a black cloak?"

Taken aback, she furrowed her brow. "I don't remember."

Sherlock's mouth pursed. "Well, if you don't remember that you won't be of any use with my other questions. Don't be too upset, the average human doesn't remember 40% of what they see from the corner of their eyes, although i, both fortunately and unfortunately, do. That is my curse."

She bit her tongue before she could reply _I'm not human, you jerk. _and smiled tightly. "Well, this had been awfully pleasant, but i really must be going."

As she turned to go, he grabbed her arm. "Wait."

She twisted out of his grasp and looked over her shoulder expectantly.

"Yesterday, when you ran into my friend, you fell over and scraped your hands."

"And?"

"They're not scratched."

"They've simply healed since then." she shifted on her feet.

"They weren't scratched when you stood up, yesterday." Sherlock's eyes were like drills, trying to bore through her skull and read her thoughts as he analyzed her carefully. She could tell it annoyed him that something couldn't be explained.

Almost smugly, she responded. "I guess you imagined it."

Then she turned and left the gallery.


End file.
